


Like Revolution

by ElvenSorceress



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Frottage, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenSorceress/pseuds/ElvenSorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time is overwhelming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually do second person POV, like, ever. But it came out this way sooo. There you go.

He tastes of wine and something dark and of the earth. It's strong, heady, and somehow you can't remember what anything else on earth tastes like. 

The scent fills your nose, lingers on your tongue. It remains even when his mouth isn't on yours. 

But when it's not, his hot breath flows over your skin, like he's touching you without ever using hands or lips. 

Your head falls backward because you need air. You need distance; even when it becomes clear that distance is painful. 

His mouth finds the pulse in your throat and marks it with kiss, with teeth and lips and roughness because you are not fragile. You are hard, cold marble. Unrelenting, though not unfeeling. 

Evidently, it is very possible to affect you. You're not immune. You're not in control. 

But his hands keep you steady. They hold you close and so securely, gentle and desperate, reverent and demanding all at once until your head is swimming. Your face, your skin, everything inside you is flooded with heat until you're flushed and slick with sweat. It could easily be suffocating, yet there is no air more necessary. This is air. 

He is essential. 

It's terrifying and addictive and you can't stop yourself. You don't truly want to. You clutch him so tightly his skin will bruise, and he begs against your mouth for more. He sobs as you kiss him and fit a thigh between his legs. All the heat and bare skin make it easy to slide against him, to grind against him like you're feral and wild and nothing more than base, carnal, iniquitous desire. 

It makes you unravel. Nothing makes sense and the world is falling apart and it's all wrong and you're breaking, but the only thing worse than stopping would be not having this. The only thing that might make marble shatter and crumble into dust would be losing him. This need is far beyond physical. 

He grips your hair, your back, your arms, whatever is closest, and your name falls from his lips like litanies.

How can he be unraveling and falling apart as much as you are? How can either of you remain whole or unscathed if neither of you can keep it together?

You try to slow your movements, try to affect a modicum of composure for both of your sakes, but he begs again and his hold on you tightens. His grip only grows stronger. 

"No, please, Enjolras. Please." His eyes are wet and bright, and his hands stroke over your face. "I need you."

You leave a kiss in the center of his palm and can't refuse. Even if you'll break. You need him, too. You shift slightly and press your whole body against his, letting it burn and consume, then thrust against him, rubbing your bodies together until it sparks and ignites you both. 

You slide your hands through his dark hair and kiss him until you remember no such thing as breath, and it's all over for him. It's hot and sticky wet, and you have to let it claim you as well. It feels like victory, bliss, agony, and defeat all swirling together, and you gasp for air desperately like you're drowning, burning, breaking. 

He holds you together somehow, even though you watched him fall apart and he couldn't possibly be all right after this. His touches turn gentle and reverent again. He rolls you both until he's leaning over you and bestowing soft kisses on your nose and cheeks and eyelids. 

He whispers too softly to hear the words, but you feel them, their meaning winding through you and sewing back all your broken pieces. He whispers of devotion, and faith and light. He breathes the word love like revolution. 

And finally, you smile. 

You're not broken. This is somehow whole. Nothing's missing, nothing's ruined. You're remade the way he says he is because of you. If you're his hope in a dark, painful world, then he's the rosy dawn. He's the future, the love, the freedom. 

He is why you fight. He's everything you'd give your life for.


End file.
